


Porcelain Dreams

by Nekhoema



Series: Porcelain Dreams [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Artist!Bokuto, Barista!Tsukishima, Blood and Injury, Cat!Hinata, Cat!Kageyama, Doctor!Kenma, End Game: BokuAkaTsukkiKuroo, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Librarian!Kuroo, M/M, Prostitute!Akaashi, Sick!Tsukishima, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6701503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekhoema/pseuds/Nekhoema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima Kei: The pessimistic, sarcastic 21 year old barista at a coffee shop who barely sleeps, gets a decent meal maybe once every three days, and who suffers from a blood disorder that leaves him with migraines and muscle spasms.<br/>Akaashi Keiji: The quiet but kind-hearted 22 year old street rat who sold his own body in order to survive.<br/>Bokuto Koutarou: The hyperactive, optimistic 23 year old artist who would give someone else everything if it meant he could save them, and who only sits still when his fingers close around a paint brush.<br/>Kuroo Tetsurou: The clever and sly 23 year old librarian who loves books but hates everyone and everything else except his childhood best friend Kenma Kozume.</p><p>Follow these four young men as the threads of fate intertwine and connect them in ways none of them ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is going to be my first time writing a series on AO3! I'm really nervous about it and updates will be sporadic as I get writer's block like you wouldn't believe, but I'll do my absolute best not to leave you guys waiting for too long! I'm really excited about this because I've wanted to write a fic for this OT4 for a long time but I just haven't had the time to do so. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this first chapter, and let me know what you think, either in the comments below or on Twitter @Nekhoema_ ^-^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima's cat goes missing and he decides to search for it. He ends up bringing home more than one stray.

Tsukishima Kei tutted in annoyance as he shoved his grimy key into the lock of his apartment door. It had been a long, hard day at the cafe and he was just about ready to grab a book, curl up in bed and go the fuck to sleep. His blonde hair was dishevelled, as usual, and he ruffled it with one hand absent-mindedly as he slammed into the door, giving it the push it needed to slide open begrudgingly, the hinges creaking, making a noise like fingernails scraping down a blackboard. Tsukishima winced and then let out a huff as he stepped into his entryway, placing the key in a bowl on a small table nearby as he stretched, rubbing his sore shoulder. Yep, that was definitely going to bruise. 

He began to saunter toward the kitchen, his hips swinging in a provocative dance for no one as he prepared to rummage through his very empty fridge for some form of sustenance. He didn’t feel like eating, he never did, but he knew it was necessary to survive, so he forced down a meal at least once every two days to keep himself going. He boiled the kettle, bringing his palms up to his golden eyes, sliding them underneath his glasses and pressing into the orbs until stars burst behind his lids. He shook his head as a wave of nausea swept over him, and he stumbled against the counter, the momentary bout of dizziness making him unsteady. Great. Just another cherry on top of the shittiest cake in existence, now his exhaustion had decided to give him a hard time. He imagined Satan himself was smiling down at him right now, laughing evilly as he dealt him yet another crap hand of cards. Or would he be staring up? Who knew.

Yawning, he began to look around for his cat, Kageyama. He hadn’t seen the exasperating fur-ball yet, which was strange, as normally he was already at the door and ready to greet Tsukishima as soon as he heard him coming down the hall outside. Tsukishima shook off the worry that pricked at him like a thorn, but it was persistent. He decided to try drawing Kageyama out with food, as goodness knows the black feline ate more than he did on any given day. 

He prepared a bowl of tuna-flavoured meat he bought at the 24/7 convenience store the night before and started tapping the dish periodically, calling for the cat as he did so, but there was no answer. Frowning, Tsukishima left it on the tiled floor and hurried into his tiny living room, which in reality was about four steps from where he was already. He scanned the room quickly, being sure to pay particular attention to the darker corners, but he didn’t see anything. No chirruping meow greeted him, no blue eyes flashed at him from the darkness. Forcing back another feeling of concern, he decided to check the two other rooms in his apartment before allowing himself to panic in earnest.

After a search of his bathroom and closet-sized bedroom complete with balcony yielded no signs of Kageyama, Tsukishima resigned himself to looking for him. He knew most people would consider this an overreaction, but the lazy feline almost never left the apartment unless it was to trot after Tsukishima himself in the early morning on his way to work. Despite his churning stomach, Tsukishima couldn’t help but smile, as that was how the overbearing ball of black ink with eyes had first wormed its way into his life. Persistent and demanding, the cat had made itself at home no matter how many times Tsukishima tried to throw it out, sneaking into his home from the balcony, between his legs at the front door, and on one memorable occasion, the bathroom window while he was in the middle of taking a shit and scaring him so much he’d almost throttled the animal. In the end he had given in, allowing the creature to co-habitate. Now, he could admit that he was fond of Kageyama. He cared deeply for the cat. In fact, he may be the only thing he cares about. With these thoughts circulating in his head like water swirling down a drain, he hurried back out the door (almost forgetting to lock up in his haste), down the elevator and back out into the night.

He searched for what felt like hours, but was really probably only 10 minutes or so, before he found anything promising. He almost missed it, and if it hadn’t been for the moon reflecting off the tiny rectangular piece of metal, he never would have noticed it. As it was, the glint clashed off his glasses, and he whipped a hand up over his face, cursing his stupid sensitivity to light. He crouched down, shivering as a cold breeze brushed over his flesh like an icy caress, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing up as his skin erupted in goose bumps. Shit, he hadn’t put on a jacket, and it was fucking freezing. He swore as he reached forward, plucking up the object that had caught his gaze and turning it over. He knew it. Kageyama's name tag. It had come off the cat’s purple collar. It wasn’t weathered from the elements yet, and it only had a few specks of mud decorating it, so he guessed Kageyama hadn’t lost his identification too long ago. Plus, Tsukishima knew for a fact that the fur-ball had been wearing it this morning before he left for work.

Climbing back to his feet, he did a quick sweep of his surroundings. It wasn’t too late at night, but already the roads were deserted, as this neighbourhood was not a good one, and it was very common for assaults to occur to both women and men in this particular area. He was near a street corner, and there was only a small amount of traffic. There was a lonely tree struggling bravely against the chill of the air, bereft of its leaves as it eked out an existence on the footpath. Beside it sat a postbox, and a rubbish bin that no one seemed to use judging from the trash littering the ground around his feet. There was nothing else of interest that he noticed, until he saw a small gap between a dusty old record store (that out of curiosity he had entered once and realised that it sold Elvis Presley vinyl's and little else), and a dingy unnamed building that looked abandoned, its windows boarded up and its door shut tight. After a moment of hesitation, he shrugged and began to approach the alleyway, his shoulders tense and one of his hands in his jeans pocket where he kept his measly pocket knife for protection. You could never be too careful.

He tucked himself into the shadows of the record store, wrinkling his nose at the musty smells of stale alcohol and piss as he peered around the corner. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he squinted, trying to see far enough into the tiny alcove but unwilling to venture into it until he knew the coast was clear. Suddenly, his heart gave a sharp thud in his chest, and he nearly choked on his own spit as he took in exactly what he was seeing. Attractive, he thought distractedly, his penchant for sarcasm appearing even in his confusion and shock.

He had found Kageyama, but that wasn’t all. The feline was curled up to a body. A small, black-haired body with pale, almost translucent, skin. Skin that was marred with bruises and cuts, blood trickling into the dirt beneath it. The ground was moist and muddy from the rain they’d had earlier in the afternoon, and Tsukishima could only imagine how frozen the other party must be, lying prone on the floor like that. He chewed his lip in indecision. From where he was at the mouth of the alley, he didn’t even know if they were alive, or if they were dangerous, or even what gender they were, and years of living on the streets had trained him to always be certain, never take risks, never help others. After all, no one had ever helped him.

But as he begun to turn away, opening his mouth to call his troublesome cat to him, knowing he would listen even if it meant abandoning his new friend, he paused. Guilt was forming inside his heart, like a big, fat worm was gnawing on it, and he huffed in anger as he wrestled with the desire to run, and the desire to check on the other person. In the end, his concern won the day, and he turned back, silently berating himself for his own weakness.

He walked toward the form sprawled before him, his feet picking up speed of their own accord as he hurried to the stranger’s side. He initially thought they were a girl, as they were wearing a black bralette that was exposed to prying eyes. They also sported a flannel shirt that was hanging half on and half off their shoulders, and a pair of skinny jeans that were hanging low on their hips, exposing two sharp bones that were way too noticeable for Tsukishima's liking. 

Sighing, he reached forward and placed a tentative hand on their shoulder, deciding that turning them over was probably the first step to getting any answers, as their cheek was pressed flat to the concrete. He let go, startled, when he saw the person’s face.

Their features were like porcelain, soft and sweet. Their mouth was petite and parted slightly as they drew ragged breaths into their exhausted lungs. Their nose was small and round, like a button, and even in unconsciousness their eyes were pulled together in anger or fear, Tsukishima couldn’t tell which. Whichever it was, it made his insides clench unpleasantly. Their cheekbones were prominent, dark shadows to rival Tsukishima's own prominent bags found themselves a home under the person’s closed orbs, and there was a nasty amount of swelling appearing in a few spots on the otherwise flawless skin. Well, not QUITE flawless. On closer inspection, Tsukishima noticed that freckles dotted their body cutely, and he had the sudden urge to trace constellations on this person’s flesh, the small brown dots beckoning to be connected. He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to be poetic. All in all, the stranger was beautiful, helpless, and most definitely NOT female. 

He was pulled out of his reverie by a soft chirp from beside him, and he almost jumped before realising it was just Kageyama. 

“You’re a little shit. Look at the amount of trouble you’ve caused me!” Tsukishima grumbled pointedly at the cat, but Kageyama just blinked at him lazily before returning his blue stare pointedly to the boy on the ground. Rolling his eyes to the sky and begging for guidance that never came, he hauled the other male into his arms, almost surprised at how light he was. He was definitely underweight. The person sighed in their sleep, turning a little into his chest, no doubt seeking his warmth, and a tiny pull on his heartstrings made him snarl. No way. NO FUCKING WAY was he going to let himself get attached to this kid just because they were a little adorable. Okay, well, a lot adorable, but that was besides the point. 

Growling under his breath, he began the short trek back to his apartment building with an extra guest in tow, the black shadow that was Kageyama trotting silently at his side.

*******************************************

Grunting in exertion, Tsukishima shoved the door to his apartment open with his shoulder, protecting the boy in his grasp from his movements by cradling him to his chest protectively as he let his side absorb the force of the impact. He sighed frustratedly as he paused for a moment in the entrance, his head swimming from a combination of nausea and sheer exhaustion, before he trusted himself to move. He wouldn’t risk it before he knew he could get the kid to the couch without dropping him. It was best for both of them if he didn’t get any more injuries.

After a minute of waiting for the bout of illness to pass, he finally managed the few steps to his sofa and laid the limp body of the boy on the cushions. Tsukishima had studied his face before in the alley, but under the bright lights of his living room he could see that he was just as beautiful as he had originally thought. He would be even more so if he didn’t also look like he’d been run over by several buses.

Tsukishima was uneasy as he ran his eyes over the other male’s features, his hand gripping the bracelet that encircled his right wrist automatically. It was a marvel, a gorgeous metal winding of silver in the shape of a Chinese dragon, twisting up his limb like a snake on a vine, its tail brushing the crook of his elbow. It was a gift he had received from his brother, and he still treasured it. He chewed on his lip ring absent-mindedly as he wondered where to begin trying to rouse the stranger. Then again, SHOULD he rouse him? He didn’t know what this person had been through, or what state of mind they had, or whether they were even safe to be around. But none of his instincts (and they were well-honed after years of living on the streets) were kicking into gear in his mind, and the black-haired CHILD slept on, uncaring of his internal clash of emotions.

Grunting, Tsukishima braced himself against the back of the seat, yet ANOTHER wave of sickness washing over him like a putrid tide of sewer water. Shaking his head, he shrugged it off. The boy may be a stranger, but he was far more likely to be willing to leave if he was relatively recovered. Tsukishima was in a hurry to get him out of his apartment. He NEVER had guests, and he questioned his own sanity as he wondered what had possessed him to carry an unconscious and unknown human straight into his safe zone, the one place he knew he was protected even when the battles in his mind overcame him and his body gave out from years of neglect. 

He shook the foreboding thoughts away when he felt Kageyama brush against his leg and mew at him softly in question. He let a small smile grace his lips, bending down to give the cat a quick scratch behind the ears. When he returned to his feet, he moved to the bathroom, foraging through the cupboard under the sink until he found what he was after. He returned to the kid’s side with a first-aid kit gripped tightly in his hand. As he flipped it open, his eyes moved to the boy again. He couldn’t be more than 20, surely. He looked so young, his features unmarked by age, by the passage of time. Kageyama had moved to the bean bag in the corner by a bookshelf filled with Tsukishima's novels, observing his owner's actions quietly.

Tsukishima felt his heart soften as an irrational urge to protect the raven-haired youth crashed to the forefront of his consciousness. Alarmed at the severity of the feeling, he dropped the kit, swearing loudly before freezing as the other male stirred in his sleep. Had he woken him? But no, he simply turned onto his side and slept peacefully on, unknowing. Naive. Vulnerable. 

The words were like poison, and Tsukishima recoiled from his own mind. That wasn’t fair. He knew it, but he still couldn’t overcome the bitterness that coursed through his veins like the venom from a serpent’s bite. Whatever had happened to this child wasn’t his fucking problem, and here he was cleaning up the mess. Literally. He huffed angrily as he began to gently wipe away the grime and blood off the other party’s skin, shaking his head at his own pettiness. As he worked, he examined the youth for injuries, but he couldn’t get a good look with the boy’s clothes in the way. He hesitated for what felt like the millionth time that night. Should he risk stripping him to see if he was hurt anywhere else? Tsukishima was uncertain, his brain still feeling heavy from lack of sleep, nutrition and sickness.

He eventually decided that he would remove his bralette at least, while leaving his lower half well alone. He didn’t even question why the other male was wearing clothing designed for women. Lord knows he’s worn some strange things in his time.

Pulling it off, he didn’t allow himself to leer at the chest that was now exposed to his prying golden orbs behind his glasses. Instead, he focused solely on the task at hand.

After another half an hour, he sat back, thoroughly exhausted. He’d found some strategically placed lacerations carved into various spots on the raven's skin, and as he wrapped them in soft bandages he’d hissed in fury at whoever had harmed him before reminding himself that he didn’t care, not one bit. He’d cleaned and dressed the worst of the cuts and bruises left over after that, and the kid hadn’t moved at all. He replaced the flannel shirt around his shoulders and fetched a warm blanket from his bedroom, his mind shouting its disapproval loudly enough to make him grit his teeth as he threw it carelessly over the limp form of the stranger.

Tsukishima put his head in his hands, the bracelet on his arm seeming to mock him as its jewelled eyes flashed in the light. He decided he would keep an eye on the youngster, at least until he was breathing easier. If he was going to help him, he may as well go the whole way and pull an all nighter, even if his body screamed at him to curl up and go to sleep.

He stayed by the boy’s bedside for the remainder of the night, only getting up once to relieve himself and grab a cool cloth to drape over his charge's forehead, as he’d begun to develop a slight temperature, no doubt from a combination of shock and being left out in the cold air.

It was 7 AM when he decided to head to the kitchen to fetch himself a coffee to start the day. He knew if he didn’t get some form of caffeine into his system, he would regret it, so after one last look at his slumbering patient, he stood up.

Immediately, his brain exploded with pain. He dropped to one knee, letting a hiss force its way past his lips, and he clutched his head. It felt like his skull had been cleaved open with an icepick. Staggering back to his feet and lurching to the side like a drunken fool, he made his ungainly way toward where he knew he kept his pain medication and, more importantly, the kettle. Grabbing a mug blindly from the rack by the sink, he set about beginning his morning routine, even if he was fighting a mental battle with himself the whole time. He spent a few minutes searching in vain for his pills before he cursed loudly. He hadn’t fucking bought any. He’d forgotten. So, here he was, feeling like his mind was about to snap, with a strange kid in his house and NO FUCKING TABLETS TO TAKE AWAY HIS POUNDING MIGRAINE. 

With those bitter thoughts chewing at him, he planted himself firmly at the table with an empty cup because he just didn’t have the energy to stand any longer. He leaned his forehead against the burnished wood, focusing on his breathing, his hands white-knuckled fists against his head as he waited for the agony to dissipate, and for the young man passed out on his couch to wake the fuck up so he could kick him out and go the hell to sleep.


	2. Payment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi wakes up in an unfamiliar place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! Somehow I already cranked out another chapter? That's super surprising to me considering that normally it takes me at least two weeks of writing and editing before I'm completely satisfied with something, but here we are! I hope you enjoy this, and once again, I love feedback! It only motivates me, haha.
> 
> SOME NOTES:  
> I gave Tsukishima longer hair in this AU. Basically, he's my version of what a Punk!Tsukki would look like. If that isn't your cup of tea I'm really sorry!
> 
> Tsukki's blood disease is Haemophilia. You can look that up if you don't know what that is. He only has a mild form of the disease so things like piercings aren't really a big problem for him; they do make him weak for a while after getting them done but he doesn't bleed too badly from them the way some people with the condition would. Most of the time Tsukki just suffers from migraines, but occasionally things can get bad, especially if he gets a larger injury than, say, a small scrape. He also bruises very easily.
> 
> Tsukki lived on the streets like Akaashi for a while but it wasn't very long. I can't say too much without spoilers but that is why he will make references to that stuff sometimes when he thinks.

Akaashi Keiji groaned in displeasure as he slowly fought his way back to consciousness. Honestly, it was like swimming through an ocean of tar or liquid concrete, his limbs heavy like lead and his body exhausted. Eventually, he won the metaphorical battle and cracked his dark green eyes open, registering vaguely in the back of his mind that he felt warm and his skin was covered by something soft to the touch. There was bright light streaming from somewhere to his right, and he turned his head in confusion toward it to try to get some understanding of where exactly he was.

The last thing he remembered was being jumped in an alleyway by a group of young men who’d propositioned him in exchange for cash. They HAD fucked him, they all took turns, and it had been rough and dirty and left Akaashi in so much pain he was nearly delirious with it when they were done. They hadn’t even prepared him. He was lucky they’d worn condoms, but their reasoning for that was that they ‘didn’t want no disgusting gutter rat diseases’. 

In the end, they’d taken their fill of his ass and then beaten him to within an inch of consciousness while he was still recovering on the ground, laughing at him when he let out rough grunts after particularly hard kicks or punches. He wasn’t a very vocal person, and he was used to this kind of treatment, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with no matter how many times similar things happened to him. Honestly, Akaashi was surprised he wasn’t dead yet. The crowd of strangers had taken off with Akaashi’s measly amount of money he’d gained over the week, as well as his only prized possession. It was a beautiful necklace made of silver chain, with a single owl pendant of the same metal. The bird’s eyes were two encrusted black jewels. Akaashi wasn’t sure what stone they were but they were breath-taking. 

The loss Akaashi felt now was strong. It had been a gift from a very kind man who had seen him eyeing it from one of his begging spots at the park, where he would go during the day. The jewellery was being sold by a peddler with random knick-knacks, and Akaashi’s gaze had immediately been drawn to it at the front of the display. That was when a person with bright golden eyes and very strange hair styled in two spikes and dyed an atrocious black and grey colour had stepped up to the cart. His voice was loud and obnoxious, and he kept glancing at Akaashi and then down to the necklace. In the end he’d bought it after a weak attempt at haggling, and Akaashi had frowned in disappointment when the stranger merely walked away with it. He’d been hoping that it would still be there the next morning. He’d been aiming to earn enough that night to buy it, but of course, Akaashi was never that lucky. 

He’d been prepared to never see the man or the necklace again, but fate seemed to favour him in this moment, because not even 20 minutes after disappearing, they were back. He stared up in surprise at the person looming over him (and wow, from this close distance, Akaashi thought he really looked like an owl; the resemblance between he and the pendant was uncanny) and he blinked in surprise when a huge smile had stretched across his face so widely Akaashi was concerned it would split in half. 

“Here, for you!”

Akaashi cocked his head to the side as a sandwich packed full of what looked like salad, turkey and mayonnaise was waved enthusiastically in front of his face. He met the gaze of the man uncertainly, afraid this was a trick, but he saw nothing but sincerity in their golden depths, so eventually he stretched out a hand hesitantly and took the food with a very soft thank you. He got a whiff of it as he cradled it close to him, and he nearly moaned. It smelled heavenly. He hadn’t had anything of that quality to eat in a very long time and he couldn’t wait to dig in.

But the stranger wasn’t done.

Akaashi was in the process of unwrapping the sandwich to start nibbling at it when he felt the man’s hands around his neck. He froze in fear, casting his eyes down submissively as he waited with bated breath. He didn’t know what the other was doing, and he was just preparing himself to ask, when crazy hair stepped back with a wide grin.

“Wow, that really suits you!”

Really lost now, Akaashi was about to ask what the other was talking about when he felt a weight against the hollow of his throat. He raised a shaking hand to his neck and felt chain, and he looked down, not daring to believe it, not daring to believe someone could be so kind.

But they were. They were that kind. The stranger had bought Akaashi the necklace, had placed it around his neck, had given him food and showed him the first compassion he'd seen since he was thrown out on the streets at the young age of 13. 

And now it was gone. He’d never seen the man again after that day, but he’d never forgotten them or their face, and the piece of jewellery had been his most treasured and beloved possession for almost 2 and a half years. Knowing it was stolen and likely to be sold off to someone who would only let it rust and full apart, or dropped and forgotten in a grimy alleyway somewhere like he himself was, broke his heart.

******

After a few more minutes of quiet and sad reflection, Akaashi finally willed himself to sit up and take stock of his surroundings. He hissed softly in pain as he did so, his entire body protesting the movement, and his ass throbbed as he put his body weight on it, but he was used to that particular kind of ache. He blinked a few times in confusion as his gaze travelled around the room he was in. He was sitting on a sofa in the middle of what looked like a living room, and just in front of him was a coffee table. There were two windows in front of him with an entertainment unit and TV between them, and the curtains were a soft material that matched the colours of the carpet, which was a soft cream. There was a bean bag in one of the corners with a lamp beside it, and next to that there was a huge bookshelf packed with so many novels Akaashi’s jaw dropped and he swallowed heavily in longing. In the past, he’d loved reading, but after spending almost 10 years on the streets he didn’t have the time for such things any more. There was a doorway next to the bookshelf which Akaashi assumed would lead to the bathroom and bedroom. Behind the couch the room opened into what looked like the kitchen, and in his peripheral vision he noticed another heavy looking door, which was probably the main entryway. 

The entire place was clean and tidy and smelled good, like pine and lavender. It was an unusual combination but it worked. 

Akaashi had never seen this place before in his life, and the unfamiliarity of it made him afraid. He could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate, and he moved to stand, to get out, to run, but his legs buckled from beneath him and he collapsed back into the cushions with a grunt. He was still very weak, he realised, but he also wasn’t in nearly as much pain as he probably should have been. He decided to do a thorough scan of himself for wounds before he made a move to leave, as he was currently safe and seemingly alone. 

He had numerous gashes and bruises all over his body, but the worst of them had been disinfected and bandaged by an unknown hand. His lower half still felt disgusting; dried blood crusted his thighs from where he’d been split open, but he was thankful whoever had taken pity on him had left that part of him well alone. He forced back the wave of shame that crashed over him at the idea of his apparent saviour discovering THAT particular injury. There was a blanket thrown haphazardly over him; it had become dislodged when he’d attempted to stand. All in all he felt relatively okay considering what he’d been through the night before, and he decided that this person at least deserved a word of thanks before Akaashi took off. 

Stretching slowly so as not to put too much pressure on his sore muscles, he got to his feet (more carefully this time) and began to look for the owner of the apartment. He’d just begun to wander toward the kitchen when he heard a soft chirrup by his feet, and he jumped, his heart jackhammering in his chest as he looked down. He nearly laughed out loud at himself. It was only a cat, with thick black fur and blue eyes that seemed to know more than they were letting on. Akaashi swallowed nervously as the feline studied him. He’d never particularly liked animals, cats especially, but he felt himself relax after a moment as the creature blinked up at him and then begun to rub itself around his legs. He crouched down, reaching out a tentative hand for the animal to smell as he tried to get a good look at the tag fastened to the purple collar around its neck. 

“Kageyama? Is that your name?” He spoke quietly, and the cat purred and rubbed its cheek over his palm. Akaashi couldn’t stop the small smile that graced his features as he patted Kageyama gently.

“He likes you. Weird.”

An unfamiliar voice split the peaceful air, and Akaashi let out a literal squeak of shock as he had his second heart attack of the day. He fell on his ass, Kageyama giving him a look equivalent to a raised eyebrow as he pressed a shaking hand to his chest and began to search for the speaker in panic, his eyes wide. They landed on a tall figure slouched against the wall of the kitchen, watching him.

The first thought Akaashi had was that he was handsome. He had long, slender limbs, and a gorgeous face. His eyes were a soft hazel framed by black glasses, his nose was straight and his lips were thin but he had a perfect cupid’s bow. His skin was pale but not as white as Akaashi’s own, and he lacked any freckles or other inadequacies. Piercings adorned his features; two in his left ear, three in his right, one in his eyebrow and one in his lip, and Akaashi wondered idly what other parts of his body were studded with jewellery. He had blond hair that was shaved at one side and fell freely to his shoulders on the other, and Akaashi swallowed audibly. There was a beautiful bracelet winding its way up his arm, and Akaashi was momentarily mesmerised by it before his gaze moved back to the other’s face. The man’s stare was intense and he could feel himself becoming pinned by it, unable to move, as surely as if he was bound. 

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, where Kageyama grew bored and climbed into Akaashi’s lap, making himself comfortable, the other male opened his mouth again.

“What’s your name?”

His voice was smooth and lacked any emotion, which matched his expression, which was cold and closed off. 

Akaashi was nervous. He didn’t know if he wanted to share his name with this person, who looked like they could snap him in two without even trying. To be fair, though, pretty much anyone could do that.

The blond huffed with impatience at his lack of response before pushing himself off the wall and coming toward Akaashi, who tensed and screwed his lids shut, assuming he was going to be hurt for not answering his question. Instead, fingers gripped his chin gently and turned his head left and right, and he opened his eyes in surprise as the other studied his face. 

There was an exasperated sigh. “Stop flinching. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Akaashi didn’t say anything, but he let the stranger examine him, forcing himself to stay still. He’d been ready for his skin to crawl, for panic to surge up his throat and choke him so he couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t come, and soon his muscles began to relax and he leaned into the other’s touch without thinking.

After another minute the fingers disappeared, and Akaashi almost mourned their loss. The golden-haired man climbed to his feet and turned toward the kitchen, a curt command to follow thrown over his shoulder. He didn’t check to see whether Akaashi obeyed, but after a moment of hesitation the raven did, much to Kageyama’s displeasure. 

The kitchen was small but cosy, and Akaashi wordlessly sat down in one of the dining chairs at the small table when the other male pointed at it. The stranger was busying himself with the kettle, most likely making coffee, and Akaashi took a deep breath, preparing himself to speak. As soon as the other turned around with two steaming mugs of brown liquid in his grasp, Akaashi met his eyes and said softly, “Akaashi.”  
He looked confused. “What?”

Akaashi steeled himself. “My name. It’s Akaashi.”

“Ah, I see.”

The blond tucked a stray lock behind his ear as he sat down at the table across from Akaashi, pushing one of the cups toward him as he did so. “I’m Tsukishima. Any chance you want to tell me why I found you unconscious in an alleyway last night?”

Akaashi gulped before shaking his head. He didn’t want to share that with anyone. He doubted he ever would, no matter how kind they were, and he hoped Tsukishima wouldn’t be angry at him for it. 

He wasn’t, he just seemed mildly irritated, but he didn’t say anything else about it, just sipped at his drink silently, his nose screwing up cutely at the bitter taste. 

Akaashi gathered all the shreds of confidence he had left. They were tattered and beaten like Akaashi himself, but they were there, and he used them to keep the conversation going.

“Um, were you the one who saved me last night?”

Tsukishima snorted. “I would have thought that would have been obvious by now. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Akaashi flinched at the sarcasm lacing the other’s tone, and Tsukishima huffed in annoyance. 

“Can you stop doing that? Honestly, it’s like you’re a frightened rabbit, jumping at every little thing.”

Akaashi was becoming distressed now. The last thing he wanted was to piss off this man. “I’m really sorry. Thank you for helping me.” His voice was small and laced with an undercurrent of his desperation, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Tsukishima’s expression soften.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t look like that. You’ll make flowers wilt.”

Akaashi met Tsukishima’s eyes and was shocked to see a tiny smirk on his face, his orbs glittering with gentle mischief as he waited for Akaashi’s reaction. When none was forthcoming other than a confused frown, the smile faded, and he took another long pull of his coffee. There was silence for a while before Tsukishima spoke again.

“Is Akaashi your first or your last name?”

“Last.”

“I see. Will you tell me your first name?”

Akaashi didn’t hesitate to shake his head no. Tsukishima looked strangely disappointed, but he let it go easily enough.

“How old are you?”

“22.”

Tsukishima’s expression changed from mildly curious to downright incredulous.

“No way. That would make you a year older than me. You can’t be younger than 20.”

Akaashi was uncomfortable. “I really am 22.”

Tsukishima still seemed disbelieving, but he stopped pushing the subject, sensing Akaashi’s discomfort. He finished his coffee and dumped the mug in the sink, raising an eyebrow when he saw Akaashi hadn’t even touched his.

“It’s not poisoned. You can drink it, it’s safe.”

Akaashi jumped and quickly took a large gulp, regretting it instantly as the sting of the liquid hit his throat. His eyes watered and he coughed harshly, dropping his cup, and he felt himself freeze as it smashed, spilling its contents all over the tiles and sending bits of porcelain skittering in every direction.

Akaashi felt himself start to shake in fear as he bravely raised his head to meet Tsukishima’s eyes, but surprisingly, the other male was pressed up against the sink, his eyes wide behind his glasses, his gaze trained on the mess on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Akaashi addressed Tsukishima, and that seemed to snap him out of whatever was going on with him internally. 

“It’s fine,” he snapped. “Just, clean it up. I can’t get cut.” 

Akaashi cowered under his harsh tone, catching the tea towel Tsukishima threw at him and mopping up as much of the coffee as he could, staining the material permanently. He used his hands to scoop together as much of the broken mug as he could before looking for something to place it into. Tsukishima fetched a plastic bag from one of the cupboards and gave it to him, and Akaashi disposed of everything promptly. He tied the bag and placed it to the side, cringing. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. He hadn’t even been on speaking terms with this man for more than 15 minutes and he’d already fucked up everything. He wanted to apologise again but he chose to keep silent.

Tsukishima seemed to relax once Akaashi had finished cleaning up, and he let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his gaze dropped to Akaashi’s hands and he frowned. 

“You got burnt.”

Akaashi was thrown off by the sudden change in subject. “What?”

“Your hands, you moron. When you dropped the cup you must have been splashed with coffee. They’re burned.”

Now that Tsukishima mentioned it, Akaashi did feel a dull sting on his flesh, but it was nothing compared to other injuries he’d received in the past so he barely noticed it. 

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ve had worse.”

Tsukishima seemed uncomfortable at this revelation. “You should at least put cool water on them. Come here.”

Akaashi found himself obeying the command, just like when Tsukishima had told him to follow him, and he meekly joined Tsukishima by the sink, letting the other grip his wrists and place his hands under the steady stream of water. It felt so good, he couldn’t help releasing a small sigh of pleasure as the throb faded and was replaced by a feeling of relief. He didn’t notice the faintest blush tinting Tsukishima’s cheeks as he stepped back, putting a respectable distance between himself and the blond.

“Are you hungry?” 

The question caught Akaashi off guard, and he shook his head no. It was true though, he really wasn’t. He didn’t have much of an appetite at all no matter how long he went without food. 

Tsukishima was unconvinced. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days. You should eat something.”

Akaashi shook his head no again. He really didn’t trust himself to eat. He’d probably throw it up all over Tsukishima’s kitchen and embarrass himself yet again. 

Tsukishima let out an irritated huff. He seemed to do that a lot. “Fine. But I’m going to let you use my shower. No offense, but you stink.”

His words were nasty, but his expression was gentle, and Akaashi decided not to let it affect him. He just nodded his assent and followed Tsukishima to the bathroom. Kageyama eyed them from his spot on the bean bag as they made their way through the living room. Tsukishima passed him a towel and pointed to the right door, and Akaashi murmured his thanks before entering.  
While in the shower, Akaashi let his mind wander.

Why had Tsukishima saved him? He had no reason to. Akaashi was just a street rat. He had nothing to give in return, nothing of value. On top of that, Tsukishima didn’t exactly seem like the nurturing type. Akaashi could already tell he was short-tempered and not very well off, so why would he bother helping him and wasting his time on someone as worthless as Akaashi? 

These thoughts were circulating in his mind as he scrubbed the dried blood from his thighs, wrinkling his nose in disgust. When every trace of the men from the night before was removed from his skin, he washed his hair, and then just stood under the spray forlornly. He didn’t want to go back out and face Tsukishima. None of the events of the past few hours made any sense to him whatsoever, and he hated it. 

But… maybe there was a way Akaashi could pay Tsukishima back for his kindness. He didn’t want to be in debt to the other, knew that that kind of situation would be detrimental to his own mental health, so he made up his mind, determined.

He turned off the shower and stepped out, looking for his clothes as he dried himself, but instead there was a fresh pair of shorts and a baggy hoodie in their place, along with a new toothbrush. Tsukishima must have left them for him. Akaashi swallowed. That meant he’d been in the room while Akaashi was naked and vulnerable. He hadn’t even heard him come in. He shook off the pang of fear that accompanied that knowledge, and after a moment of hesitation he pulled them on cautiously, before examining himself in the mirror above the sink.

He almost snorted. He looked ridiculous. The hoodie was huge on him, and the sleeves fell over his hands. It was so big that you couldn’t even tell he had pants on at all, in fact. His hair was a wild mess, tangled and damp, and his eyes had dark shadows beneath them that made him look like a zombie. It didn’t help that his cheeks were hollow and his skin was sallow with a yellow tinge, making his freckles and various bruises more noticeable. His mouth turned down in a frown. He was so ugly. Filthy. Tainted. He hated himself. He wanted to cry, but he refused to. He scrubbed his teeth vigorously, fighting back tears the whole time, before he was ready to leave.

Leaving the towel folded neatly on the counter, he left the room to re-join Tsukishima. The other male was lounging on his sofa, book in hand, but he placed it down as soon as he sensed Akaashi nearby. 

The raven was in the doorway, playing idly with the hem of the hoodie, his gaze trained firmly on the ground.

“Thank you for letting me borrow your clothes.”

Tsukishima didn’t say anything, just blinked at him for a moment, eyes wide, but he quickly recovered. “Uh, yeah. It’s fine. Yours are in the wash at the moment.”

Akaashi reeled back, surprised. He hadn’t expected the other to go that far for him. “You’re washing my clothes?”

Tsukishima looked annoyed. “Like I’d let you use my shower and then put you back in such filthy garments. It’d just be a waste.”

Akaashi nodded in silent agreement. That was true. 

Internally, he began to steel himself. He slowly approached Tsukishima, rounding the sofa, before coming to a halt beside him. The blond watched him impassively, obviously completely unaware of what he had planned, and Akaashi didn’t let himself hesitate as he swung a leg over Tsukishima, straddling him.

Tsukishima immediately froze, shocked by this development, and Akaashi took the opportunity to pull the hoodie up over his head, leaving him in just the borrowed shorts. He rocked his hips once, twice, before drawing a hand up to one of his own nipples and teasing it with the tip of a finger. 

“Let me repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Tsukishima opened his mouth, most likely to refuse him, but Akaashi didn’t let him speak. Rejection couldn’t be an option. Tsukishima HAD to accept his body as payment. He had nothing else to offer to him, and Akaashi wanted to show his gratitude somehow. This was the only way.

He leaned in close to Tsukishima’s ear, forcing back a wave of self-hatred and fear as he whispered two words.

“Fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think either in the comments below or on Twitter @Nekhoema_ ^-^


	3. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi leaves Tsukishima's apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so short compared to the other two and I apologise for that, but I really suck at writing angst. It's something I definitely need to work on, but either way I hope you guys enjoy this update and um please don't kill me

Tsukishima was frozen in absolute shock as he absorbed the words whispered so erotically in his ear, the speaker gyrating his hips above him and trying to entice him with lascivious glances as the blond remained impassive.

On the outside, his face was a mask of cold indifference, but internally his mind was racing at a million miles an hour. He had so many questions on the tip of his tongue, so many thoughts fighting for dominance in his head, but none of them offered him any explanation for why Akaashi was acting this way. The shift in the raven’s personality had seriously unsettled him. How could such a shy and meek person one minute transform into the epitome of sin and desire the next? Tsukishima had no idea, but it frightened him. Not to mention that somehow Akaashi had figured out he was gay. He was sure he’d kept that fact well under wraps, but in actuality he must have been far more obvious than he initially thought, if the house guest straddling his lap was any indication. Either way, this was not a situation Tsukishima was ready or willing to deal with, no matter how attractive Akaashi looked staring down at him with hooded eyes and mouth parted as he panted quietly from the effort of rocking above Tsukishima, so without further ado he sat up, almost clashing heads with Akaashi in the process, and dumped him onto the floor.

It was almost comedic, the way the other male blinked up at him in complete surprise and slight pain, his hair askew and his torso completely visible to Tsukishima’s wandering eyes. Their gazes remained locked for an indefinite amount of time, neither of them willing to yield and show weakness by being the first to glance away. 

Kageyama watched this entire exchange from his spot on the bean bag chair, one blue orb cracked open in displeasure as he observed their stare-down. 

Akaashi swallowed, once, twice, before finally throwing in the towel and clearing his throat, preparing himself to speak, but before he could utter a single word Tsukishima beat him to it.

“Get out.” 

Tsukishima’s face was entirely closed off, any trace of emotion he may have had wiped clean. He radiated hostility and anger but his features were expressionless as he waited for the other to react to his command. The raven seemed to be panicking, swallowing audibly and shaking on the carpet as he slowly got to his feet, his bruises and cuts more obvious than ever before as all the colour drained from his face. Goose bumps were beginning to erupt on his flesh, but Akaashi didn’t seem to notice, he just shivered harder and wrapped his arms around himself as he fought a losing battle against the tears that wanted to escape him. He refused to cry in front of Tsukishima.

Sighing, feeling very irritated and confused, Tsukishima grabbed the hoodie Akaashi had discarded and shoved it roughly over his head. Akaashi had flinched away from the contact, obviously afraid of him, but he’d ignored his discomfort in favour of not allowing the other to freeze when he could do something about it. 

Akaashi seemed so much smaller in the baggy clothing. His frame was petite as it was, but it appeared tiny like a child’s under the sheer bulk of the material. He was still shuddering, and Tsukishima couldn’t deny the way it made his heart squeeze as he watched Akaashi’s pathetic attempts to hold himself together. It made him angry. He didn’t care about this idiot. Akaashi may be older than he was, but mentally he was young and immature, and Tsukishima didn’t have the time or patience to deal with it, so he took a deep breath and pointed toward the front door.

“Get out,” he repeated, louder and more firmly this time. 

Akaashi stilled and lifted his eyes to Tsukishima’s, and Tsukishima felt himself beginning to cave when he saw tears beginning to form in the corners of those dark green orbs. He was fighting himself to remain stoic, but inside he was beginning to crack. He ran a hand through the shaved part of his hair, chewing on his lip ring, his patience beginning to wane. His voice was icy cold as he addressed the other for the third and final time.

“Get out before I make you leave.”

That did it. Akaashi’s entire body seemed to wilt like a dying flower as Tsukishima’s rejection finally clicked in his brain. He had only wanted to repay the blond’s kindness, give back to him somehow the compassion he had shown him, but evidently that was the wrong way to go about it.

He tried desperately to think of a way to salvage the situation, and finally settled on simply apologising. He didn’t want things to end this way. It had only been a short time but already Akaashi was so fond of the other man. He didn’t want to lose the only connection he’d managed to form with another person in a very long time. He didn’t want to just let himself walk away, to take the easy way out like he did with the stranger that bought him the owl pendant. No, he wanted to fight to keep this… whatever they had, alive. He wouldn’t let Tsukishima drive him off just because of Akaashi’s stupid mistake.

“I’m sorry, Tsukishima. I just… I wanted to repay you somehow. That was the only way I knew how. Please, forgive me.”

His tone was an earnest plea, his entire being poured into those two words as he tried to convey with his eyes and voice everything he couldn’t say. 

But it fell on deaf ears.

Tsukishima stepped forward, stalking toward the raven like a predator following prey, and Akaashi’s blood ran hot with fear as he began to back away from the other. Eventually, he was pressed up against the front door with nowhere to go, and he was almost hyperventilating as two arms caged him in, effectively trapping him. He had his eyes screwed shut, refusing to see the disgust and loathing shining in Tsukishima’s own orbs, but he grabbed Akaashi’s face and forced him to look at him, his grip on his jaw strong and unyielding.

“You really want me to touch you, don’t you? Do you want me to mark you up and fuck you into the sofa? Would you like that? Of course you would. I wonder how many other men you’ve ‘repaid’ in this manner. How many diseases you’re riddled with. You disgust me. Now, this is your last chance. Get. The Fuck. Out. Before. I. Make You. Or maybe I will take you up on your earlier offer, and then we’ll see how you’re feeling then.”

Tsukishima’s speech was dripping with hatred as he snarled in Akaashi’s face, his hold on the raven’s chin tightening before he released him with a cruel smirk. Each word had seemed like a physical blow to the other, and Tsukishima was partly glad for that, and partly disappointed in himself for taking delight in hurting him. He never used to be so nasty. He used to be compassionate and understanding, kind and loving, but that all changed when he lost the two most important people in his life to his own carelessness. He would never let himself become close to anyone again. He couldn’t. It hurt too much, and Tsukishima was still trying to build himself back up, was still trying to recover from the trauma of his past, and he just couldn’t handle Akaashi’s baggage on top of his own.

Akaashi was crying, sobs escaping him in little hiccups. His eyes were wide and empty and his pallor had taken on a greyish hue. He was fumbling blindly for the door handle, evidently trying to leave, and Tsukishima stepped away to let him, the bracelet on his arm winking in the sunlight streaming through the living room windows.

Akaashi’s fingers finally closed around the handle and he ripped the door open harshly, the hinges squeaking their protest as he did so and making both of them cringe. 

He had his back to Tsukishima as he choked down his emotion, arranging his features into one of boredom as he said softly,

“I have nowhere else to go.”

He heard an unimpressed scoff behind him.

“That isn’t my problem.”

Akaashi flinched at the venom in Tsukishima’s tone, stepping out into the hallway and preparing himself to leave, but then he balled his hands into fists and spun around to face the other, his heart beating so fast he was concerned it was about to jump out of his chest. His knuckles were white from the strain of his fingers digging into his palm. He didn’t know what he was going to do, just that he was furious and wanted to HURT Tsukishima the way the blond had hurt him. 

Tsukishima just stared at him, eyebrow raised and arms crossed as he tapped a finger impatiently. Rage boiled in Akaashi’s blood but it quickly died to a dull simmer as he remembered.

He was worthless. He didn’t matter. He let guys fuck him in exchange for cash. No one wanted him, no one ever wanted him, unless it was for a hole to use and toss aside. He was a burden on everyone and therefore he wasn’t allowed to rely on anyone. He was a piece of shit, and therefore Tsukishima had every right to tell him to get out. Tsukishima was merely bored of him now. He should have seen it coming. Akaashi had been an idiot to believe the blond felt otherwise. 

“All I wanted was to be your friend.”

Akaashi didn’t realise he’d spoken until he heard Tsukishima let out a derisive huff of disbelief.

“Like I’d ever be friends with a slut like you.”

Akaashi felt a part of himself fracture and dissolve into nothingness when that sentence left Tsukishima’s mouth, and he raised a shaking hand to his mouth to keep himself from throwing up all over the pierced man. 

Gathering the last shreds of his courage together, he gasped out, “I… see. I’m sorry.”

There was no response other than the loud, echoing slam of the door and the piercing whine of the hinges screeching their protest to the world as they were manhandled so roughly. 

Akaashi remained outside Tsukishima’s apartment for a long time, frozen in place, his mind and his heart empty as he tried desperately to pull himself together.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave feedback in the comments below or on Twitter @Nekhoema_ !! Honestly, anything you can give me will keep me motivated. :3


	4. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi forgets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one gets dark, guys.  
> i also kept it as short as possible because I know reading this kind of stuff is very hard, and writing it is also extremely difficult.  
> i'm really sorry.  
> trigger warnings: mentions of rape/non con, disassociation, severe depression, stockholm syndrome and panic/anxiety disorder

The day that Tsukishima tossed him aside like he was nothing was the day Akaashi's pride shattered for good. When he took those first few, faltering steps away from the blond's apartment and wondered where he was going to go after what happened, he felt nothing. There was no sense of urgency, none of his usual instinctual drive to find shelter and protect himself from the elements or other people. Instead, for the rest of that fateful afternoon and evening, he wandered. He didn't know how far he walked, he didn't even realise he WAS walking, not until his legs gave out from under him and the moon was high in the inky sky and Akaashi's mind finally stopped repeating Tsukishima's derisive words to him like a broken record. 

He slept there, on the pavement where he'd collapsed, and when the sun was just starting to rise he awoke and resumed where he'd left off before. 

The next day was the same.

And the one after that.

He'd wake up somewhere on the side-walk, or in a back alley, or, on rare occasions, in a stranger's house after a long night of being fucked. He let any one use him now, at any time. He no longer had any reason to complain or be afraid of men taking advantage of him, not when he was a slut, a fuck toy. Fuck toys didn't have emotions and they didn't talk, and soon, Akaashi was no different to the vibrators flung under a married couple's bed to be forgotten unless they were picked up to serve their purpose once again. 

When he wasn't being abused for someone's sexual gratification, he walked.

It got to the point where Akaashi didn't remember that he wasn't always being used, that sometimes he was free to do as he pleased. He didn't remember that he was a person of flesh and blood, and not just a simple hole for others to stick their cocks into. He forgot that he had a life and a personality and dreams and desires, and the only thoughts that were in the forefront of his numb mind were of how he could improve his services for the next person. He didn't even take money any more. Where once he'd accepted cash as a reward for a job well done, now he took praise. He walked away empty-handed almost every time he was bent over, and where once that might have disappointed or worried him, or even left him with cuts and bruises from a particularly violent encounter, now he felt himself swell with pride from the perverted compliments whispered in his ear in the dead of night while he was being thrust into a brick wall.

A lot of the time, Akaashi didn't eat. He no longer slept unless he absolutely had to, and due to his worsening insomnia, he was lucky to catch a couple of hours of it every few days. He rapidly lost weight, and distantly, in the back of his mind, he knew this probably wasn't a good thing, but the whispers were barely paid a second of attention before Akaashi brushed them aside dismissively. He didn't need to worry about nutrition or his level of exhaustion, not any more. That was only something PEOPLE could worry about, and Akaashi wasn't one of THOSE.

After a few months, Akaashi forgot how to speak.

He'd open his mouth to say something to his current Master (he was passed between owners regularly as people got bored of him) and then his eyebrows would come together in confusion as he remembered that he was a toy and toys could not talk, didn't have mouths that were used to make words. They were only there to be filled by another. Akaashi would feel the faintest tickle of amusement at himself whenever this happened, and a lot of the time when it all became too much for him to handle and he'd snap he'd try to laugh but no sound would come out and he'd end up staring down at his naked body in confusion as he wondered why his body reacted that way and why he was panicking when he was perfectly content with things. His Masters took good care of him. They fed him and watered him when they remembered he existed and they let him sleep when he could manage to drift off at all. They'd even given him a collar that was firmly attached to a lead tied securely to a ring on the wall as a sign of their ownership. His life was perfect. His entire purpose was narrowed down to being the best toy he possibly could be.

After a while, Akaashi stopped feeling things at all.

He no longer had thoughts of his own, they were all programmed into his brain early on by other people, by his Masters. All that he cared about was their pleasure and how he could make them happy.

Akaashi forgot.

He forgot, and that's why when he was suddenly dumped unceremoniously into the street after an indefinite amount of time by his Masters, he just looked up at them blankly, waiting for them to give him an order.

He was still waiting after several hours, long after they'd left him on his knees in a grimy alleyway, long after they'd gotten back into their beat up old van and driven away with a screech of protest from the tyres. He was sure they would return and praise him for staying in position and being so patient, sure this was a test of his loyalty and ability.

But they never did.

He remained there for a long time. No one came into the backstreet, it was too far out of the way, too inconvenient for use, and so it was forgotten, much like Akaashi himself was. As the sun and moon rose and fell like the slowest ever see-saw, Akaashi could feel himself beginning to break into little pieces, his life and purpose crashing down around him much like the porcelain mug he'd dropped that day at Tsukishima's apartment.

A head with alarmingly round, golden eyes and hair a ridiculous shade of grey and white appeared in his field of vision, its mouth moving too frantically to keep up with and its expression one of frantic concern.

And that was when Akaashi remembered.

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this was bad  
> i don't know where this actually came from tbh as normally i never ever write something this dark but i promise it will get better!!!!!  
> Leave me feedback in the comments or on Twitter @Nekhoema_ !! :D I love hearing from you guys. :3


	5. Roughhousing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kenma is a young single mother trying to cope with her two sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry this took so long for me to get out! Originally, this chapter was meant to be up a week after the last one, but then real life happened. I really am so sorry. I hope this longer, fluffier chapter will be enough to make up for it and you can all forgive me for making you wait so long! Thanks so much for everyone's support, it really means a whole lot. :D
> 
> also, I know that becoming a doctor is a process that literally takes about 10 years BUT FOR THIS FIC'S SAKE LET'S PRETEND IT DOESN'T YEAH?

Bokuto Koutarou was a very fit human being. He liked working out, going for jogs in the moonlight (romantic, right?) and wrestling with his roommate Kuroo in their living room while the third occupant of their apartment, Kenma Kozume, observed them disapprovingly over his black rim glasses, his hair pulled up on his head in a tight bun. Bokuto thought it was cute how Kenma normally wore it back when he was relaxing or working. He said it was because he got distracted easily, and he didn't like the feeling of his ombre mane falling loosely around his face, but Bokuto guessed it was just because Kenma knew if he left it down Kuroo would tease him for it and call him pudding cup, which Kenma hated. Their cat, a tiny ginger tom called Hinata (but who Kuroo and Bokuto nicknamed Chibi-chan), was bounding around their feet, playfully batting their ankles with his small paws and generally just trying his best to join in on their excitement.

This continued for about 10 more minutes, neither Kuroo or Bokuto giving any ground, until Kenma suddenly put an end to it. Evidently, he'd had enough of their roughhousing.

"Alright, you beasts. Stop before one of you gets hurt."

Bokuto and Kuroo broke apart after another moment of intense staring, agreeing without words to call it a truce for tonight. Twin shit-eating grins spread across their faces and they turned their bright eyes on Kenma simultaneously. Kenma felt a chill run through him at the sight as they raised their hands, fingers curling and uncurling ominously.

"Did you feel left out, Kozume?" Kuroo's voice was like melted chocolate, sounding through the air with all the innocence he could possibly muster in this situation.

Bokuto's words dripped with poorly disguised glee as they began to approach Kenma. "I wonder if he's ticklish?"

Kenma blinked slowly, trying to keep a mask of calm boredom pasted on his face, but the closer the two bigger men crept, the more his facade cracked, until with a small squeak he leaped to his feet and sprinted to his room, Hinata hot on his heels. A loud slam echoed through the building, followed by a click as the lock on his door was turned. Kuroo and Bokuto hadn't pursued him, but that didn't stop them from doubling over in raucous laughter, clutching onto each other for support as their bodies convulsed with chuckles.

It was Kuroo who managed to get himself under control first, straightening up and wiping a single tear from the corner of one of his narrow, piercing eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen that kid move so fast."

Bokuto, who had just managed to catch his breath, started giggling again, light and airy and carefree, and Kuroo listened to his joy with fondness coursing through his veins. When they both eventually managed to calm down, Kuroo stretched idly, raising his arms above his head, his shirt riding up a little and exposing his toned stomach. He noticed Bokuto's gaze was firmly trained on the patch of skin visible on his torso, eyes wide. Kuroo decided to tease him a little.

"Like what you see?" Smug, he lowered his arms, shooting a wink at his bro as he did so. Bokuto gulped audibly, a slight blush just visible on his cheeks. He turned his head to the side and didn't answer, obviously shy at being caught staring.

Kuroo was surprised. It wasn't often that he saw Bokuto actually get flustered. Normally the owl was a large ball of overbearing confidence, so it was strange to see him so submissive. Strange... and, as loathe as Kuroo was to admit it, very attractive. Embarrassment was a good look on his well-built friend.

"Ohoho?" Kuroo's chesire cat grin was in full effect now as he approached Bokuto, putting a single finger under his chin and tilting his head up so he could see his friend's expression. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, _Koutarou_."

Bokuto's golden orbs flashed with defiance, and, without further ado, he bit down harshly on the digit hovering near his face. He didn't even give Kuroo time to react to his aggression before he took off in the direction of their shared bedroom, following Kenma's lead as he barricaded himself inside, safe from the retaliation of the other man.

Kuroo had been right behind him. So close, in fact, that he didn't have even a single moment to put the brakes on before he collided heavily with the wood of the door, rebounding off it to collapse on the carpet, cradling his nose as he rolled around, low moans of pain audible as he waited for the wave of dizziness that came over him to pass.

Bokuto knew better than to check on him, though he did feel pretty bad. He hadn't meant to hurt him, but that didn't mean Kuroo would see that. He had a bit of a temper, after all.

"Are you okay, bro?"

He said this through one of the cracks, wincing in sympathy as he heard Kuroo give another groan in response to his question.

Just as he was about to take pity on the other and come out, he heard Kenma's door open, followed by a heavy sigh. "What did I tell you? Stop moving for just a moment and let me look."

Bokuto let out a sigh of relief. That's right! Kenma was a doctor! A doctor! He could handle this, there was no need for Bokuto to emerge and put himself directly in Kuroo's line of fire. His gut still twisted with guilt though.

Kenma, meanwhile, had managed to coax Kuroo's hands away from his face, turning him gently onto his back as he leaned over him and began to examine his bruised nose, his own small hands prodding with practised ease, ignoring Kuroo's little hisses of discomfort. "It's your own fault, Tetsurou," he scolded, his face pinched in displeasure and only slight worry. "I told you to stop."

"I know, Kenma." Kuroo looked miserable as he frowned. Kenma only used his first name when he was really irritated at him. His good mood from earlier had dissipated, and now he just felt like shit. He hated when he disappointed Kenma, he really did. He tried to sit up, to give Kenma a better angle at which to work, but his best friend since childhood was having none of it.

"Lie down, Kuroo. You could have a concussion, so don't move."

Bokuto's blood froze as he listened to their exchange from the other side of the door. A concussion?! What's that?! It sounded serious, and he didn't like it. He was really getting concerned, now. If Kuroo was badly hurt it was all his fault!

"Do you feel dizzy at all? Or nauseated?"

"I did when I first fell down."

"That's not what I asked. How do you feel now?"

"I feel okay now. My nose just hurts a bit."

"I see. Well, you can try standing up. SLOWLY."

Kenma was abrupt and professional as he helped Kuroo clamber to his feet. His raven-haired charge didn't seem to be showing any signs of confusion or other side effects of a knock to the head, so Kenma concluded that he was relatively alright, though signs of concussion could start occurring a few hours after the blow itself. He decided to keep an eye on the other. He wouldn't say it outright, but he cared about Tetsurou, a lot. He'd done so much for him over the years, though to someone on the outside looking in it would probably seem like Kenma was the one constantly taking care of Kuroo, which was probably true. However, Kuroo returned the favour in kind in his own way, and Kenma was so grateful to have him around. 

He was about to open his mouth and tell Kuroo to sit down and put some ice on his poor, abused nose, when both of his patient's nostrils started streaming. With blood. Kenma wasn't alarmed. That happened, sometimes. It took Kuroo a moment to realise, and once he did, he seemed slightly freaked out, jamming two fingers up his nose to plug it and hopefully halt the flow of crimson liquid pouring over his hands. He looked at Kenma, eyes wider than usual with alarm, and the ombre could almost see the invisible '?!' hovering over his head.

Kenma rolled his eyes. "Attractive. Okay, go and get in the shower. Don't stand in it though, sit down. Just in case you start feeling weak."

Kuroo nodded as best he could and tottered to the bathroom, still clutching his nose, his other hand working to get his shirt off. Kenma watched him go. By his feet, Hinata was watching him, large brown eyes wide. Kenma wondered if the little cat was worried. He crouched down, ruffling the animal's ears. "He'll be okay. He's just a dork, don't be concerned." 

Hinata looked slightly miffed for a moment, and Kenma wondered if he'd misunderstood. Hinata trotted to Bokuto and Kuroo's room and began to scratch at the door, mewing softly before turning back to Kenma. It was at that moment he heard sniffling coming from behind the wood, and he realised Bokuto was crying. 

Kenma wasn't equipped to deal with an emotional Bokuto, oh no. Not tonight. Not when he had an injured Kuroo to care for and a shift at the hospital starting at 4 AM. He was probably only going to get about 3 hours of sleep at this rate as it was. 

Bokuto would just have to fend for himself for once.

Or so Kenma had thought, but then he'd heard the quiet sound of the lock coming free, followed by the squeak of the hinges as Bokuto opened the door, and all his reasoning flew out the window. 

Bokuto was a mess. His hair, normally styled to stand up in two spikes ridiculously, was drooping pathetically, and his face was smeared with tears and snot from crying so hard. His cheeks were red but the rest of him was pale, and his shoulders were hunched, trying to make himself appear smaller. He looked absolutely miserable.

Bokuto's emo mode was in full effect, and Kenma couldn't help but feel his heart clench painfully. A sad Bokuto was something no person should ever have to witness.

Bokuto jumped when he saw that Kenma was standing just outside, letting out a tiny noise of shock, which under any other circumstances would have been rather amusing. 

"Oh, Kenma. Is... Is Kuroo okay?" His voice was quiet as he watched Hinata wind his fluffy body around their legs, chirruping softly at them. 

"Yes, he's fine Bokuto. You, on the other hand, look ridiculous. Honestly, what am I going to do with you?"

Bokuto seemed to shrink even more at Kenma's words. Kenma hadn't thought that was possible.

Feeling bad for snapping at him, Kenma sighed and gripped one of Bokuto's wrists in a firm grip, dragging him through the apartment to the small kitchen, seating him at the table and handing him a paper towel while he was at it so Bokuto could clean himself up a little bit. Hinata followed them, settling himself on Bokuto's lap. Bokuto started stroking him distractedly.

Kenma still didn't say anything as he washed his hands in the sink and began to boil the kettle, reaching up on his tiptoes to grab three mugs down from the cabinet and grabbing the container of brown powder they kept beside the steel appliance. Coffee. Not something he'd normally make for Bokuto, considering how hyperactive he usually was, but a pick me up was something the other sorely needed, and Kenma knew he'd regret it if he himself didn't have some form of caffeine in his system. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost 11 PM. Yep, he'd definitely not be sleeping tonight. Coffee would be his saviour. No doubt Kuroo would want a cup too, so he set about preparing the hot drinks silently.

Bokuto thought he had been feeling guilty before, but as he sat obediently and watched Kenma prepare them all coffee, he noticed the small male was dressed in his pyjamas and his hair was out of its bun. They must have disturbed him when he'd been about to sleep, and that made him feel even worse. 

"I'm sorry, Kenma." Bokuto mumbled. 

Kenma didn't answer for a moment, not until he had two steaming mugs in his hands and he could join Bokuto at the table. 

"It's fine, Bokuto. Please stop beating yourself up over what happened."

"But Kuroo got hurt because of me. I'm a terrible friend." 

"Who's a terrible friend?"

The question came from the direction of the doorway, and both Kenma's and Bokuto's heads whipped around to see Kuroo standing there, looking sheepish with a towel wrapped around his waist and one in his hands, ruffling his messy hair with it as he futilely tried to get it to dry faster. Kenma didn't miss the way Bokuto's stare lingered on him for longer than was strictly necessary before dropping his gaze to his feet, his face blooming with colour. A small smirk made itself a home on Kenma's lips. Yes, he knew all about the attraction his roommates had for each other, but it wasn't his business to get involved, and it was rather amusing watching them dance around each other, flirting tentatively. Bokuto was far more obvious about it than Kuroo was, but Kenma had had years to study his sly and clever best friend, and he knew the not so innocent fascination Bokuto had for Kuroo was mutual.

He remained silent as both he and Kuroo waited for Bokuto to answer.

"I am. It's my fault you got hurt. I'm sorry, bro," Bokuto addressed the table, refusing to look up at the person he was apologising to.

Kuroo frowned. "You're not a terrible friend, Bo. It's not like you did it on purpose, right?"

Bokuto's head snapped up, an expression of shocked indignation taking over his features. "Of course not!"

Kuroo smirked at him, and even Kenma felt his heart skip a beat. He forgot just how handsome Kuroo actually was sometimes, even if he felt no desire toward him personally.

"Then, there's no harm done right? You didn't mean to hurt me, and I'm okay!"

Kenma interrupted him with a snort. "I'll be the judge of that, thank you."

Kuroo huffed. "Whatever, but what I'm saying is, it's fine, Bo. You're still my best bro in the whole world!"

Bokuto's voice was almost inaudible, but dripping with hope as he met Kuroo's steady gaze. "Really?"

Kuroo winked. "Really really!"

The grin that took over Bokuto's entire face at the confirmation was like the sun. Too bright and too beautiful to be looked at directly. He leaped to his feet (Hinata tumbling off his lap with a screech) and tackled Kuroo into a huge hug, ignoring the taller's protests as he picked him up and spun him around, heedless of Kuroo's nudity, which was only protected by a single towel. His loud laughter filled the kitchen once more and Kenma hid a smile in his mug as he took another sip of his coffee, glad everything was back to normal between them again.

Once Bokuto was done celebrating, and Kuroo had disappeared with his coffee to get dressed, Kenma leaned his head against the back of his chair and released a long sigh. It had been a very long day and an even longer night, and he knew he wasn't going to get any sleep, even though he felt so exhausted. He was dreading his shift at the hospital because one of his moodier patients was scheduled to come in for a blood test and a general check up. Kenma liked his job enough, but even though he did like it and he was good at it, he still wasn't exactly what you'd call a people person. He just enjoyed being able to help them when he could. He'd originally been hoping to secure a position at a games retailer of some kind, but when Bokuto had moved in he'd chosen the smarter option and become a doctor, because it paid a lot more, and he had the degree anyway. He and Kuroo took it upon themselves to support Bokuto, as the owl was an artist, surprisingly enough. The only time Kenma ever saw him sit still or concentrate on anything was when he had a paint brush in his hand, and he was loathe to drag him away from something he was so passionate about just to force him to work. Bokuto chipped in on expenses when he could (mostly when he made some money from selling his paintings) but it wasn't often. Kenma wasn't resentful of this, however, and he knew Kuroo wasn't either, because Bokuto was GOOD at what he did. 

Bokuto suddenly appeared in his field of vision, waving both hands enthusiastically in front of his face.

"Hey! Earth to Kenma? Anybody home?!"

Kenma blinked rapidly, slightly annoyed, but it was his own fault for zoning out.

"Ah, sorry Bokuto. What did you want?"

"I said I'm going out on a jog now. I need to work off the stress from earlier."

"A jog? Now? It's after midnight Bokuto!"

"I know, but I really don't think I can sleep right now. I promise I'll be fine!"

Kuroo chose that moment to reappear in the doorway again, dressed in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a hoodie. "Oho, can I come too?"

Bokuto opened his mouth, no doubt about to agree, when Kenma intervened.

"Absolutely not. You need to rest, you hit your head, remember?"

Kuroo pouted, but Kenma ignored it in favour of turning back to Bokuto.

"Fine, you can go for your jog, but please be careful. And take the back streets, nobody uses them, and the main road will be packed with drunks right now. I don't want you near them, you have a habit for attracting trouble."

Kuroo chuckled. "Wow, Kozume. I don't think I've ever heard you speak so much at one time before."

Kenma stared daggers at the other and Kuroo quailed under his angry glare. 

"Promise me you'll be safe, and as hard as this probably is for you, smart, Bokuto."

Bokuto looked uncomfortable at the intensity in Kenma's brown orbs, but he mumbled his assent seriously. Kenma was satisfied. 

Kuroo grinned wickedly and slapped Bokuto on the ass as he strode past him, making him yelp. "Have fun, bro."

Bokuto stuck his tongue out at Kuroo, quickly darting upstairs to get changed into something more appropriate for jogging before exiting their apartment, Kuroo following him to the door and letting out a wolf whistle as he left.

Kenma shook his head in exasperation. "What am I going to do with them?"

*********************************************************

Bokuto was about halfway through his run when he found Akaashi.

He'd turned into an alleyway that he knew would lead him back to his home, quite keen to be back so he could curl up in bed, as it was quite cold that night. His huffed breaths were releasing clouds of fog in the cool air, and all was silent except for the distant sound of cars and shouts coming from the main road, and his own feet hitting the pavement. He passed what he thought was a rock of some description and continued on, but then he screeched to a halt.

In his peripheral vision, he swore he'd seen the rock _move._

Curious, he turned back to study it more carefully, and it was then he realised it wasn't a rock at all. 

It was a person, naked and shivering in the freezing air.

Alarmed, Bokuto skidded to a halt in front of them and dropped to his knees, trying to get their attention frantically as he gently took them by the shoulders.

His breath caught in his throat when they raised their face.

He KNEW this person. Their black hair was a wild mane of curls now and their skin, though it had always been pale, was now so white as to be completely translucent, marred with cuts and bruises, even some gashes that were still weeping pus and blood into the dirt. They were stick thin. Their eyes were dead and emotionless, showing no sign that they even realised he was there, and Bokuto felt a piece of his heart break for those eyes and for their owner, sick to the stomach at how wretched their appearance was.

It had been a few months since Bokuto had seen them, but he still recognised them, even though they had visibly changed so much. This was the beggar he had fed a sandwich to and bought a necklace for, the same one that had popped into his mind every now and then, the one that he'd felt so drawn to but didn't know how to help. Bokuto had always regretted leaving them alone, because he'd never found them again, and ever since then a feeling of foreboding had hovered over him whenever he so much as thought of them. 

Now, he knew his anxiety had been well placed, and he was silently panicking.

It was then that the raven began to scream, startling Bokuto so much he nearly wet himself, and he began to really feel terrified now. What had happened to them?! Why were they screaming?! Bokuto didn't know, and he was so worried he'd begun shaking. He tried to get the other male's attention, get them to calm down so Bokuto could help them and figure out what the fuck had happened, but they didn't respond to anything the owl said.

Suddenly, the smaller male gave one last piercing shriek and then pitched forward into his arms, unconscious. Bokuto was in shock, and he reacted on autopilot, ripping off his jacket and wrapping it around them tightly to give them some protection from the elements, as they were completely nude. He bundled them up and then cradled them to his chest, his heart beating so fast he was wondering if they could feel it. He was disturbed at how light they were. It was like lifting a sack of potatoes. They weighed nothing. 

Once Bokuto had checked that he had a firm grip on his charge, he took off at a sprint toward his apartment, his entire being focused on nothing but helping the person he'd abandoned months before. He refused to make the same mistake again. He WOULD help them this time, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, either in the comments below or on Twitter @Nekhoema_ !!! :D


	6. 3 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma is the real MVP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is literally only so many times you can write 'the stranger' and 'the man' before they stop sounding like words and just get repetitive, but seeing as no one knows Akaashi's name yet, I hope you can bear with me? Haha. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Yay for fast updates! \^-^/

Bokuto kicked open the front door of his apartment and cringed as it smashed against the wall, his breaths coming frantic and quick as he pulled the unconscious man in his arms against him more securely. His muscles were screaming in protest as he stumbled his way into the living room, laying down his charge gently on the sofa, his legs trembling from exertion. He hadn't run that fast or that hard in a very long time, and he was feeling the repercussions of that fact now, exhaustion radiating from him in waves and his entire body coated with a sheen of sweat.

He vaguely registered one of the doors in the hallway opening, and a couple of seconds later, Kuroo appeared in his field of vision, rubbing his eyes blearily and yawning. His usual bedhead was even more ridiculous than usual, standing straight up like a fluffy spike. Honestly, Bokuto thought he resembled a rooster, but he was too stressed out to even consider poking fun at the other right now. All his attention was focused on the person currently sleeping on their couch. He really did look like shit. Too thin, his skin sallow and marred with cuts and bruises, his cheeks and eyes sunken, his hair such a tangled mess that it rivalled Kuroo's even on his worst days. But, even for how emaciated and ill the little raven appeared, Bokuto still thought they were one of the prettiest people he'd ever laid eyes on.

"So, want to tell me why the fuck you had to announce your return so loudly?"

Bokuto jumped. He'd been so busy studying the stranger that he'd completely forgotten Kuroo was even there. That had never happened before. Normally Bokuto gravitated toward Kuroo like a planet with its sun. All he ever wanted was to be close to him. But right now, something was different, and it made him feel uneasy.

"...sure you woke everyone within a 10 mile radius of this apartment with that display. Oh, except Kozume, because he can sleep through anything. Seriously. The world could be ending and he'd nap right through it."

"Tetsurou, I'm right here."

Bokuto felt a mild flash of amusement as Kenma appeared from behind Kuroo, the latter letting out an unmanly squeak of surprise as he spun around, a hand pressed to his heart, his face flushed from embarrassment. Kenma just raised an eyebrow behind his glasses, his arms crossed over his chest, a single finger tapping his elbow impatiently as he waited for someone to explain what was going on. His ombre hair was back up in a tight bun and he wore a grey tank top and well fitted jeans that hung low on his hips. Bokuto had no idea how the hell he could look so attractive this late at night (seriously, it was surely close to 1 AM), but he appreciated the effort nonetheless as he ogled the other's body appreciatively. He couldn't help it, alright? Kenma was cute most of the time, but when he tried, he could be classed as hot, maybe even sexy. And Bokuto wasn't blind.

Kenma noticed his staring and rolled his eyes. "Bokuto, when you're quite finished leering would you mind explaining to me why it was necessary to slam the front door so hard against the wall that there's a hole in the plaster?"

Kuroo had recovered from his earlier shock and turned to Bokuto as well, nodding his head in agreement. "Yeah, bro. Why the sudden racket?"

Kenma's gaze suddenly sharpened as it raked over Bokuto's form, and the owl shivered. He never enjoyed being under Kenma's scrutiny; it always felt like he had X-ray vision, that he was seeing through everything, piercing every little obstacle and barrier Bokuto built to keep him out. He supposed it was because of the career Kenma had chosen; patients often lied about their ailments, so as a doctor you had to be practised at picking up on even the tiniest idiosyncrasies, the smallest hints of inaccuracies in a story. 

"Koutarou..." He began slowly, his usually blank expression now morphing into one resembling agitation. "Why are you covered in blood?"

Out of the corner of his eye Bokuto saw Kuroo stiffen at Kenma's question. Bokuto was confused for a moment before he realised that they couldn't see the stranger from where they were standing, and that he was, indeed, covered in blood as Kenma had said.

"Oh my god, no. It's not my blood." Bokuto shook his head vigorously, his hands waving in front of him to emphasise his words.

Kenma looked even more troubled at that revelation. "Then... whose blood is it?"

Bokuto paled. He had no idea how he was going to explain the person on the sofa, and the moment he realised that, a wave of dizziness swept over him. He slapped a hand to his forehead, and Kuroo took a step toward him, alarmed. Kenma didn't move, but he looked poised to take action if the situation required him to. 

"Bo, are you okay? You look like you're about to faint." 

Bokuto needed to sit down. "Help... Help him." He gestured toward the man on the couch before beginning to tip to the side, vaguely registering Kuroo crying out his name before strong arms broke his fall and he was lowered gently to the carpet to lean against Kuroo.

"Easy there, Bo. I've got you. Are you alright?" Kuroo's voice was filled with concern, but Bokuto waved it away. 

"I'm fine, Tetsu. Just tired all of a sudden. Please, help him?"

"Kenma's got it covered. Relax for a minute, man. Fuck, you scared the shit out of me when you collapsed like that."

Bokuto chuckled weakly. "Sorry. It surprised me, too."

"Yeah, well, don't do it again. I think I lost one of my 9 lives."

Kenma suddenly whipped his head around to look at them from where he was bent over the unconscious member of the little gathering, his fingers at his throat, checking his pulse. After a minute or so of silent counting he pulled the digits away. "Weak. Koutarou, you and I are going to be having a long talk when this is over, but for now, my main concern is getting them" (he nodded toward the man as he said this) "stable. Why didn't you call an ambulance? I don't know if my help is going to be enough."

Bokuto tried to focus enough to answer, but his brain felt foggy, and his limbs were heavy with fatigue. Kuroo spoke up on his behalf, his chest rumbling against Bokuto's back comfortingly as he did so. "Kozume, can we do the interrogation later? I think he needs to rest a bit more."

Kenma was less than pleased with this, but he agreed with some reluctance, turning back to his more pressing patient and getting to work on diagnosing exactly what was wrong. Bokuto and Kuroo watched him throughout the examination, in awe of his skill and efficiency. It wasn't often that they got to witness Kenma actually doing his job, but when they did they were both flawed by how different he seemed. It was like a switch flipped in his mind and an entirely new personality appeared, one that could speak without getting flustered, one that didn't shy away from the idea of physically touching another. Of course, it could just be that Kenma was a very good actor and was keeping all of his discomfort locked away. They'd probably never know for sure.

*********

It was 3 AM by the time Kenma was finally satisfied.

Once he had ascertained that there was no head trauma, no internal damage and no major breaks to any of their bones, he gave his permission for Kuroo to carry the stranger to the bathroom, and together the three of them gently scrubbed all of the dirt and dried blood from his tiny body, as well as his hair. They were all a bit uncomfortable doing this without his consent, but he was filthy, and Kenma was insistent as he was worried about any more infection setting in. Kenma had stiffened when he'd gotten a glimpse of the poor boy's anus, and had sent Bokuto and Kuroo away quickly after that, though they were hesitant about leaving them alone. However, they only protested for a moment before Kenma shot them a glare that had them scurrying out of the room, metaphorical tails between their legs. 

Kenma felt ill as he began to wash his patient's lower half, his heart cracking as crusted semen and more blood flowed down the drain, and he tried not to imagine what this person must have gone through for so much of it to have collected both inside of him and on his skin. He had hand shaped bruises all over him, but the purplish marks were most concentrated around his throat, thighs and wrists. He also had various gashes of different lengths and severity marking his hips and stomach, but the ones that were most concerning were a line of deep wounds in the shape of letters slashed across his lower back. When read they said the word 'SLUT'. Kenma felt fury unlike anything he'd ever experienced before burn low in his belly, but he took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Right now, he just needed to get this man the help he needed, he could ponder the details later.

When Kenma was sure the man was as clean as he was going to get for now, he called Kuroo back in to help him dry them. Bokuto was taking a nap at Kuroo's insistence, and Kenma felt a bit of fondness for him when he saw him snoring loudly, his head tipped back on the sofa and his mouth gaping open ridiculously. Hinata had finally made an appearance and was curled up on Bokuto's lap, one golden brown eye cracked open to watch the activity around him as Kuroo carried the raven-haired male to Kenma's bedroom, Kenma himself right behind them. Kenma scrounged up a baggy hoodie and a loose pair of sweatpants for the man to wear, and he and Kuroo dressed their unconscious charge cautiously, afraid to jostle him too much in case they hurt him. Kuroo caught a glimpse of the insult carved across the other's spine when Kenma couldn't pull down the hoodie fast enough, and his face lost all colour as he stared at the spot where he'd seen it, his normally narrow eyes wide with distress. Kenma reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently to give his tall friend some form of support, and Kuroo was grateful.

They'd put him on Kenma's bed to rest. Kenma was normally very adamant about not having anybody in his room, let alone in his bed, but he decided to make an exception in this case. If there was something this boy needed, it was a neat and tidy room with a soft yet firm mattress to sleep on. 'Neat' and 'Tidy' were not words Kenma would use to describe the explosion of dirty clothes, books and half-eaten snacks that was Bokuto's and Kuroo's domain, so that left only his own little corner of the apartment.

When Bokuto woke up he fetched a bowl of cool water and placed it on the end table beside the bed, soaking a cloth in the clear liquid before wringing it out and plopping it gently on the small male's forehead. He'd gone to check on them and noticed they'd begun to run a fever, no doubt from being out in the cold for who knows how long coupled with the shock of their injuries, and Bokuto was determined to bring it down before it ravaged their body too badly. Kenma had vanished after bandaging the worst of his patient's cuts and gashes, no doubt to call the hospital and let them know he probably wouldn't be able to make it to his shift that day, and Kuroo had passed out on the sofa, Hinata beside him. Bokuto felt guilt well inside of him as he realised just how much he had inconvenienced his two friends. Yet, neither of them had complained. He was so grateful for them. He'd have to do something nice for them both later, like make them dinner, or something. 

************

About half an hour later Kenma stalked back into his room, feeling frustrated. His boss had been less than understanding about him taking the day off on such short notice, and he was absolutely exhausted. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep, but he still had a job to do, and that job was to get the truth regarding what the fuck had happened on Bokuto's run. 

He dragged the chair from his desk over to the opposite side of the mattress to Bokuto. The owl was kneeling, his fingers tenderly combing through the stranger's fringe, and Kenma paused. Bokuto's eyes shone with something akin to affection, his features softer than usual, and Kenma was perplexed. That was an expression Bokuto only wore around Kuroo, so why was it appearing now? Kenma shrugged off his own bewilderment and instead decided to confront Bokuto about what had occurred during his jog.

"Koutarou."

Bokuto removed his hand from where it had been stroking the curly strands and turned to Kenma, the warmness from before vanishing and instead being replaced with a tiredness that mirrored Kenma's own. 

"Kenma. What's up?"

Kenma's reply was brisk. "I need to know the details regarding what happened with this man. Where did you find him? Do you know him? What is his name? What happened to him?"

Bokuto held up a hand, overwhelmed. "Okay, okay, but one question at a time? Please?"

Kenma smiled. It was a simple quirk of the lips, but Bokuto breathed out a sigh of relief. He didn't seem angry, just curious and worried.

"Alright. Firstly... Do you know him, Koutarou? His name? Anything about him at all? It would really help if we could identify him somehow before he wakes up, just in case he gets worse and has to be admitted somewhere."

Bokuto started shaking his head before Kenma had even finished speaking. "Nah, I don't know him at all. I've met him once before, but only briefly, and it was because I was buyin' him food. He was sitting near where all the beggars gather at the park, and he looked real hungry, so I got him a sandwich. Oh, and he'd been eyeing this necklace at some guy's stall, but he obviously didn't have any money on him, so I bought it for him. That's all. I never even got his name. Though I kind of wish I had."

Kenma was caught off guard at Bokuto's explanation. Of all the things he could have told him, he hadn't expected that. He knew that the owl's generosity and kindness were his more prominent traits, however, (along with his boisterousness), so maybe he shouldn't have been surprised.

"So, you bought him food and a piece of jewellery... which no longer seems to be in his possession, by the way." Kenma watched as Bokuto's face fell when he said that, and he couldn't help feeling a little bad. "Kou, I doubt he would have let it go if it was that special to him, not willingly. Someone probably stole it."

There was a fire in Bokuto's eyes and he leaped to his feet. He was pissed. "Then I'm gonna go and steal it back!" His voice was loud, and Kenma winced.

Kenma rolled his eyes. "Sit before you hurt yourself, we're not finished. And keep it down!"

Bokuto grumbled under his breath but did as he was told, sinking back down to his spot on the carpet and pouting at the sheets. Kenma chose to ignore it.

"Was he like this when you found him? And where was he?" Kenma continued, gesturing at the frail lump under the blankets as he did so.

Bokuto's features twisted into something resembling sadness and outrage. "He was in one of the back alleys I use to get home. I actually thought he was a rock or something at first, but then he moved a bit. I realised that it was a person kneeling on the concrete and I went back to see if they were okay... and I recognised him." Bokuto's voice dropped to a whisper and he gazed at Kenma, tears beading at the corners of his eyes and lower lip wobbling. "He was so still, I was actually afraid for a minute that he was dead, or something. And I tried to talk to him, and get his attention, but even though his eyes were open it was like he couldn't see me. He didn't react, even when I waved my hands in front of his face, but then suddenly..." Bokuto heaved a huge exhale, his hands trembling.

"Take your time, Koutarou. There's no rush, okay?"

Bokuto gave Kenma a wobbly smile. "Yeah, I know. Thanks. Anyway, basically he just... started screaming. Scared the living daylights out of me. He didn't stop for ages, and then he just passed out and fell forward against me. And that's why I brought him here. I didn't know what else to do!"

Kenma gave a small hum of understanding, fiddling with his glasses distractedly, his mind processing everything he had just heard. He was about to ask something else when Bokuto beat him to it.

"It's my fault, isn't it? It's my fault he's like this. If I'd only helped him before... If I hadn't left him that day, maybe this wouldn't have happened!" Bokuto's tone was dripping with despair, and it made Kenma's heart ache to hear it.

"No, it isn't your fault."

"But-"

"No buts. You've already done far more for him than most people would. You fed him, you bought him something he really wanted, and when you met again and he was in trouble, you brought him here, Koutarou. I would normally counsel against doing something like that, as we don't know anything about him, but for the circumstances at the time, you did a good job, okay? So, please don't blame yourself."

"Wow, Kozume. You're really on a roll with those speeches tonight, aren't you?" Kuroo had joined them in the bedroom, leaning against the door frame and smirking cheekily as he watched both Kenma and Bokuto jump. "But Bo, he's right. It isn't your fault. I'm proud of you, my dude. I couldn't ask for a better person to call my best bro."

Bokuto perked up a little at that, and Kenma was once again overcome with a wave of gratitude for his childhood best friend. If anyone could pull Bokuto out of one of his moods, it was Kuroo. Kenma just wasn't good enough with words to do the job himself.

Kuroo felt something brush against his leg, and he looked down, meeting the large brown eyes of Hinata. "Well, hey Chibi. Finally awake, are we?" He knelt down and scratched the cat under his chin, revelling in the tiny meow he got in response to his comment. This continued for a moment before Hinata abandoned him to leap onto the bed beside the man unconscious in it, nuzzling close to him and purring quietly. The three other males in the room observed with some amusement as Hinata licked his cheek before settling down practically on his face, heedless of the cloth on his forehead, making them laugh.

The laughter stopped when there was movement from below the covers, the body underneath them beginning to stir, releasing a pathetic whimper. Hinata bounced to Kenma's side and climbed up his arm to settle on his shoulder, bright orange tail puffed out and bushy, pupils huge. They held their breath, waiting, all gazes fixated on the stranger's face as he frowned in his sleep, lashes fluttering, giving his cheeks little butterfly kisses as he began to wake up.

Everyone in the room had been frozen, staring at him intently, completely willing to believe they were ready, but they were still unprepared for when he opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, either in the comments below or on Twitter @Nekhoema_ ^-^


	7. Bubbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima is worried about his cat. There are puppies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow shit it's been over a year since I updated this fic I cannot believe it I am so sorry to everyone who was waiting every day for this to update please know I love and adore you all so much more than I can say, things have been really rough for me and I'm going to try my hardest to continue this semi-regularly. anyway, I hope you like the update, enjoy!

Tsukishima scratched his chin absentmindedly, tucking a lock of his blond hair behind his ear as he eyed the carrier by his feet, currently the residence of a very disgruntled Kageyama. He was perched uncomfortably on the corner of a chair in the waiting room of the local veterinarian clinic, waiting impatiently for the receptionist to beckon them in for their appointment. Kageyama had been behaving rather oddly since the incident a few months ago with Akaashi, and he was reluctant to admit that he was beginning to become concerned about the exasperating fur-ball's wellbeing. Finally, out of sheer frustration, he'd bundled the cat in his arms and wrestled him into his cage to take him down for a check up. 

The clinic was a bright and cheery place. It was built out of warm, red brick, and there were boxes outside under the windows overflowing with flowers of all kinds and colours. The interior was painted pale blue, with lots of pictures of various animals scattered around haphazardly, and potted plants (mainly ferns) crammed into any available space that wasn't taken up by seats or coffee tables scattered with magazines. There was a play pen filled with a litter of puppies waiting to be adopted in one corner, and Tsukishima found himself focusing on them as they rolled and tumbled around, yapping excitedly. He had to admit, even he thought they were cute, with big floppy ears and wide chocolate eyes that seemed to beg to be taken home. There were six of them, that he could see, and they were all a matching shade of dark brown, their coats sleek and glossy and their paws huge, evidence that they had a lot of growing to do. He coughed as he realised he'd actually allowed a small smile to slide its way onto his lips, and he shook himself, returning his expression to one of impassive disinterest as the tiny dogs continued to play in their enclosure. All except one, which became visible when two of its more energetic siblings rolled into their food bowl, scattering biscuits everywhere and making a huge mess, the dish clattering loudly as it was sent spinning, eventually coming to rest a short distance away. He cocked his head. The pup that he had spotted had fur a lovely shade of cream, with speckles of brown scattered across its face. It was small and looked forlorn as it observed the others playing, pressed against the bars as it narrowly avoided being sent flying by its siblings. Tsukishima's breath caught, and he scrambled to his feet, placing Kageyama's carrier on his chair as he hurried over to the pen, sinking to his knees next to the lonely pup. On closer inspection, he noticed that the little dog was male, due to the blue tag attached to his collar, and that he was the runt of the litter. Hesitantly, as he had never been a big fan of dogs due to their boisterous dispositions, he slipped a hand through the bars, gently touching the animal's flank and crooning to him softly to try to catch his attention, not wanting to startle him. His efforts were futile, however, as the puppy gave a barely audible yip and shuddered, snapping his head around to stare at him, eyes wide. Their gazes met, and Tsukishima froze, not wanting to move again and risk frightening him more. This was the right thing to do, as eventually the pup relaxed and sniffed his fingers tentatively before giving them a quick lick, and Tsukishima felt warmth engulf him as he scratched under the animal's chin. 

"Mr Tsukishima and Kageyama? Lev is ready for you now."

It was Tsukishima's turn to be startled as he whirled around to face the man who addressed him. He was a polite, well-mannered gentleman who looked to be in his early twenties, with close cropped light brown hair and a gentle face, eyes radiating amusement as he watched Tsukishima attempt to regain his composure, blinking rapidly behind his glasses. He eyed the scene before him with interest, and when he noticed the puppy that the blond had been petting, he raised an eyebrow. He didn't say anything, however, and Tsukishima considered that a small blessing as he clambered slowly to his feet. He was shocked to discover that he stood a good deal taller than the other, and his surprise must have been clear on his face, as the other's good-natured expression faded, to be replaced by one that made it look as if he'd swallowed a particularly sour lemon.

"This way." His tone was clipped as he spun on his heel, leaving Tsukishima to scramble after him as he gave the puppy one last affectionate pat and grabbed Kageyama's cage, the cat giving an unhappy chirp within the confines of his carrier. He could feel the dog's gaze boring into his back as he followed the receptionist (or vet nurse? Tsukishima wasn't sure) to a small, pristine room. It was completely white and made him feel distinctly uncomfortable as he released his cat from his prison and lifted Kageyama onto the examination table. The man who had shown him in introduced himself as Yaku before stepping out with a curt nod. Left to his own devices, Tsukishima sighed and gazed around the tiny room. There was a sink in the corner and two plastic chairs, not at all like the comfy ones in the waiting room outside. It smelled like chemicals. And fear. Probably his own. Tsukishima hated hospitals, animal ones being no exception. 

After a minute or two he heard the door swing open. He pasted a very fake smile on his face and prepared to introduce himself, but stopped short, eyes widening. The veterinarian, (Lev, he assumed) stepped inside and grinned, green eyes sparkling as soft grey locks were brushed impatiently away from his face. He was tall, taller even than Tsukishima, his limbs long and gangly and the white coat he was wearing only exaggerating his unnatural height. Despite all this, there was an eagerness to his demeanour that was very appealing to Tsukishima, and it made his heart ache. After a moment of staring Tsukishima looked away, cheeks slightly red. What? It wasn't HIS fault Lev was attractive... Or that he reminded him of Yamaguchi.

"Hello! I'm Lev Haiba, but I'm sure you already knew that. Nice to meet you. So, I hear you've brought in a finicky feline for me to have a look at today? Ah, good, you've already popped him on the table. What a lovely shade of black he is! And so fluffy. I like cats. Do you like cats? I want my own but Yaku won't let me have any pets. Except a fish. We have a fish called Bubbles, he's the best."

Tsukishima's head was spinning as Lev continued to talk animatedly, backing up slowly until he could sink down onto one of the two very uncomfortable seats, unable to even formulate where he was meant to start responding to his rushed introduction. 

Seeing the blond's dumbfounded expression, Lev chuckled and cut himself off with a mumbled apology, turning his attention instead to Kageyama, who was watching them both reproachfully. "Ah, aren't you a little darling. Let me take a look at you, there's a good boy." Lev was cooing to Kageyama and Tsukishima had to catch himself from snorting with laughter as the feline gave him a look that screamed "Are you fucking kidding me?" He just shrugged to the furball, grinning now as he saw an expression of absolute betrayal cross the cat's face before he was blocked from view by Lev's back. 

*************************************************************************************************************

Tsukishima blinked slowly as he trailed his fingers over the art splayed out beneath him, gorgeous, milky skin on full display for his perusal. His lips slid slowly over his partner's waist, curling into a smirk as he watched goosebumps blossom over their flesh, quivering with anticipation of his touch, a quiet intake of breath the only sound the other made. Tsukishima took his time, just enjoying making them shiver and quake beneath his skilled hands, his gaze firmly fixated on the space between his partner's legs, already wet with arousal. He dragged his fingers through the mess, smirking up at them as he collected their juices on his digits and slowly dragged his tongue over them, winking seductively and causing his partner to groan. He took his sweet time, teasing them and preparing them for his cock, rubbing his forehead affectionately over their thigh like a cat as he gently gripped their hips and lifted them to meet his hardness. He pushed in slowly, carefully, entwining their fingers together as he pinned his lover to the mattress, giving them a second to adjust to his intrusion, smooching their chin. After a few minutes he began to rock his lower half, his cock sliding inside them fully until they were pressed against each other and he was completely buried within them, biting his lip to stifle a grunt of pleasure.

His deliberate, protective pace only lasted until he heard them whisper for more, and harder please, Sir, and that was when he lost it, hammering into them quickly, growling in animalistic desire as he pulled them up to sit in his lap, using his powerful thighs to support their weight as he fucked into them, watching their face contort with desire, those black eyes rolling in their head and their raven hair askew, angular features slack as they cried out pathetically above them. His nails dug into their skin, leaving crescent shaped marks behind as he answered their pleas for more, his own back bleeding from being clawed by his lover, the sting dull in comparison to the burning within his loins.

He brought them both to the brink of orgasm, determined to cum together, the ultimate union between them, when he felt them tap him on the top of the head. He'd rested his head on their chest as they made love, and he leaned back to look at their face, confused by the motion, before his eyes went wide with absolute horror.

Yamaguchi was staring at him with an expression of complete disgust, freckles still dotting his features as clearly as Tsukishima remembered them, his hair tied back in his signature ponytail, eyebrow piercing glinting even though there was barely any light for it to possibly reflect in the darkness. Confused, Tsukishima gaped at him, his blood running cold as the man above him morphed back and forth between Yamaguchi and the one he had originally been having sex with, Akaashi. He tried to pull out, to escape, to run, but his cock was trapped inside them and he could do nothing but shake with terror as he screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore. He felt the other sit forward, and he didn't know which boy it was right now, he couldn't see, didn't want to see. Lips were beside his ear. Soft breath curling over his skin. A voice. Commanding him to cum. Akaashi. Tsukishima relaxed. He was okay. He wasn't thinking straight, is all. He was just tired. What he saw couldn't possibly have been real. He slowly resumed the brisk pace from before, still refusing to open his eyes, and it didn't take long for him to follow through on the order that had been purred into his ear, corrupting his brain, leaving him without any will to resist. As he came down from his high, breathing hard, he slowly blinked open his orbs and gazed at his lover.

"You betrayed me."

Tsukishima screamed, horror bubbling within him like a mentos in Coke as he bolted upright, his body covered in a cold sweat as he fumbled fearfully for the lamp switch, letting out a soft breath of relief as warm light flooded his bedroom and he realised he was alone.

A dream. It was just a dream.

That didn't comfort him in the least.

**********************************************************************************************************

Tsukishima didn't sleep again that night, nor would he for many nights to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so short. I've been chipping away at this chapter on and off for the last year and I finally sat down to pump out all the rest of it today. I'm still on Twitter @Nekhoema_ but I don't post a lot of stuff there unless I'm whining lmao. Thanks to everyone who has been supporting and encouraging me for so long, it's thanks to you this was even finished at all.


End file.
